The ongoing struggle of South Africa's youth: Beyond Youth Month

Youth Month may have ended, but the reality facing young South Africans has not changed with the turning of a calendar page.

This is not a June issue. This is a July issue, an August issue, and an every-month issue until change comes.

I was born on Youth Day. Not just into a date, but into a mission. For most people June 16 is a symbol. For me, it has been a summons. A daily reminder of what it means to inherit a nation still searching for its soul, and what it means to carry forward a legacy written in both blood and possibility.

At 26 years old, I was elected one of the youngest councillors in South Africa. I was often referred to as a youth leader, but the title came with more weight than celebration.

In my community, a councillor is not just a representative – he is the father, the fire extinguisher, the provider, the undertaker. I buried the young dead, negotiated with the government, calmed burning streets, and stood in courtrooms where hope had long since withered.

The role forced me to grow up fast. My youth was different from that of others – it was something I endured while carrying the burdens of others.

Now, at 33, I find myself looking back and forward all at once. I am still called ‘young’, but how does a 33-year-old, forged by duty, truly relate to an 18-year-old who is trying to find their place in a country where the rules keep changing, the jobs keep disappearing, and the violence keeps knocking at the door?

But I have learned that being young is not the same as being new. And what South Africa needs today are not just youthful faces, but new voices rooted in community, disciplined by purpose, and shaped not by entitlement.

Youth in South Africa are not just ‘challenged’ – they are bleeding: economically, mentally, and spiritually.

Unemployment among youth (ages 15–34) is a staggering 46.1%. Among those aged 15–24, it is over 60%. That is not a statistic; it is a quiet war.

Let me be clear: I have met many hardworking young people who want nothing more than a chance. But there is also a growing culture, which we must confront, of expectation without preparation.

We speak of the “born-free” generation as though the end of apartheid was the end of injustice.But our youth were born into a freedom that often feels like fiction.

I have stood with and fought for them. Like some, I too live with a disability. In 2022, I was violently attacked and left with permanent damage to my dominant hand. I can no longer use my hand or fingers fully. I feel very little in that hand. But I have learned to adapt – to create artwork for the first time, to appear in court again.

I sometimes choose to wear a gold glove on that hand, not to hide it, but to remind myself that even pain can shine when purpose leads the way.

Too many youth enter politics thinking it is a job. Too many youth think activism is a career. It is neither.

Politics, at its core, is service. Activism is sacrifice. If you are not prepared to fight when there is no crowd, to serve when there is no salary, to speak when no one is listening, then you are not ready to lead.

What we need now are young leaders who are not chasing perks but principles. Leaders who are not loyal to factions or hashtags, but to people and their pain.

I recently met young people who gather at the BAT Centre in Durban. They meet every week – sharing poetry, art, music – and they do so without expectation. Just for the cause. Just for community. I was humbled by them. They remind me that we are not without hope. We are simply without investment in the right places.

I want to reflect on three people – among many – who are advocating for youth. Clive Pillay, who has spent decades building young leaders at the Nelson Mandela Community Youth Centre in Chatsworth.

Ravi Pillay, who creates platforms for youth to be heard – not just spoken to – by those in power. And Kiru Naidoo, who documents the untold stories of our communities so that young people may know who they are and what they survived.

Three different paths, but with one mission: to uplift. We each have a role.

So what now? First, let us reimagine how we define “youth.” Not merely by age, but by contribution, courage, and creativity.

Second, let us build spaces where youth can be more than passive recipients, but actual architects of the future.

Third, we must demand more – from our youth and for our youth. There can be no revival of this country without their full, fearless, and honest inclusion.

Finally, we must listen – truly listen – to our young. Not to pacify them, but to understand what they are trying to say: “This country belongs to us too. Let us shape it.

Now that Youth Month has passed, let us not reduce our young people’s future to hashtags and forgotten speeches. There are young leaders already among us.

Let us build that country together. Not later. Now.

Previn Vedan is a lawyer, human rights advocate and activist based in Durban

*The opinions expressed in this article does not necessarily reflect the views of the newspaper.

DAILY NEWS